


Gadgetry

by codswallop



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Coming Untouched, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codswallop/pseuds/codswallop
Summary: Brad is really into his toys. Ray needs a little convincing.





	Gadgetry

It's late Sunday morning, and Brad is torturing Ray’s ass with a vibrator.

A _vibrator_. Brad owns a vibrator. A _hot pink_ vibrator, no less, and Ray is going to be completely merciless on him over how stupendously, phenomenally, _astronomically_ gay this is--if he ever gets his full powers of speech back, which admittedly doesn't feel like a given at this point.

“You want to do _what?_ ” Ray had said, ten minutes ago. Or maybe ten hours. He can hardly remember it now, but he's pretty sure that’s what he said. 

“What, they don't have sex toys in Buttfuck, Missouri? They make them out of silicone out here in the civilized world, you know. It’s a hell of an improvement over the corncobs you used to fuck your sister with.”

“Yeah, I'm a real backwards hick for never having crammed a great big piece of plastic into my ass,” Ray scoffed. “I like to get reamed out by an actual human cock--what's wrong with that?”

Brad gave him a pitying look. “You're missing out,” he said. “What are you afraid of, exactly?”

And that, to the best of Ray’s dwindling ability to recollect, is roughly how they ended up here.

He's lying on his stomach, sort of, hugging a pillow with one knee hitched up and his face mostly hidden in the crook of his own arm, because that way had seemed easiest to avoid actually watching what Brad was doing to him.

“Twenty dollars says I don't even come from this,” Ray says. “It's so undignified, I can't get ov-- oh, man, what the fuck,” he sputters, flinching away as Brad spreads him open and touches the slick tip of the toy to his hole. “It's _cold_. This is just unpleasant. Fifty dollars, easy money.”

“You're on,” Brad says, sounding absent and distracted. “Hold still. It'll warm up in a second.” He presses forward, breaching him, and it’s not awful or anything, just weird and hard inside him, too inflexible and unyielding. 

“This feels like a vaguely unsavory medical procedure so far,” he tells Brad, voice muffled in his arm. “Just let me know when it’s over.”

Brad pulls the toy back, and Ray thinks maybe he’s relenting, but then there’s a firm shove and it’s inside him deep, making him arch his back and open his mouth wide. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasps. “Warn a guy, will you?”

“OK, warning you now,” Brad says. “Breathe, Ray,” and he turns the fucking thing on.

It buzzes his prostate on the first stroke and he arches his back harder as it yanks a moan out of him, but then it’s gone and he’s empty, feeling his asshole clench on nothing. “Brad,” he protests, and it turns into another gasp as Brad inserts the thing again, rotating it around inside him until he hits a spot that makes Ray’s toes curl, and then---nothing, emptiness again.

“Brad, you _suck_ ,” Ray groans. “Fine, just...fuck me with it already, okay?”

“Oh, so you do like it?” Brad spreads him again, thumb and forefinger holding him open, and just barely touches the buzzing tip of the vibrator against him. Ray keens and pushes his ass back onto it, trying to get it to enter him again, but Brad holds it _just_ out of reach and laughs as he squirms.

“You’re a fucking sadist and I hate you,” Ray says, and collapses back down against the bed in defeat.

“Aww, Ray-Ray.” Brad leans over and nuzzles his neck. “All done playing? You want to get off?”

Ray turns over onto his back, reaches out and finds Brad’s hand that’s still holding the vibrator, and guides it upward and into his body again in lieu of a verbal answer.

“It’s the feeling of control I like,” Brad muses, a few minutes later, fucking Ray with the toy steadily now but still much too slowly. The vibrations are edging him, drawing him closer and closer to the brink and making him pant, making sweat stand out on his forehead and prickle the hairs on his stomach. He can’t even speak anymore to tell Brad what an asshole he is. “I couldn’t do this with my cock, I’d come right away with you looking like this, clenching around me like this--fuck, Ray, you’re so gorgeous right now, you should see it. You want to touch yourself, don’t you? You want to bring yourself off while I’m fucking you with it?”

And nothing’s stopping him from doing just that, of course, but the idea of Brad giving him _permission_ to touch his own dick makes him lose his mind even more. He makes some sound, some desperate sort of needy sound, and Brad--unruffled, cool as ice, still fully _dressed_ for fuck’s sake--gives him a wicked half smile.

“Another minute, Ray,” he says. “You want to up the stakes of that bet? A hundred says I can make you come without touching yourself at all.” He reaches down and turns the vibrator up another notch--Ray jerks wildly and cries out--pulls it all the way out, then shoves it in hard and deep, once, twice, three times, and Ray’s spasming around it, his vision going dark and starry, shaking hard as come splashes onto his belly. 

Brad leans over to kiss him, a clash of teeth and tongues, uncoordinated and messy. “Fucking beautiful,” he says, and Ray is vaguely aware that he’s unzipping his pants, taking out his cock and jerking himself rapidly with one hand. He reaches out with the other hand and touches the place where Ray’s still stretched around the vibrator, twitching with aftershocks. “Oh,” Brad says reverently, rubbing one finger around the edge of him alongside the toy and then slipping it just inside, and then he goes still and starts to come.

*

“I have to admit, that was pretty much a hundred-dollar orgasm,” Ray says later, when his tongue works again. “You win, homes, I stand fucking corrected. You can ravish me with that totally gay-ass thing any time.”

“I’ll take it out of you in trade,” Brad promises. “Better yet, I’ll let you win it back--my turn next time.”

“The day is young and your ass is mine, Iceman. So, uh...what else have you got squirreled away in that locked desk drawer?”

“You’ve had enough education for one day,” Brad says. “We’ll start slow.”


End file.
